


Smoke

by tectrices (an_ardent_rain)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/tectrices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy used to hate it when she smoked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

Jimmy used to hate it when she smoked.

Well, Amelia thinks, her fingers shaking as she flicks her lighter on, Jimmy’s gone.  The taste is familiar, and smoke curls out of her and it feels a little like relief.

Only a little.  And then the feeling passes.  

There’s tar in her lungs, a blackness she can’t scrape out and what would a little more hurt, she thinks.   _What would a little more hurt?_   And her hand is trembling so hard that she fists it in the collar of her shirt, trying to get the shaking to stop. 

The sky darkens around her and soon they’ll need to get back on the road.  She leans against the side of their car and tries to breathe; it’s become home, their possessions packed in tight and messy: in the trunk, the backseat, everything about their old lives spilling out all around them.  Claire sleeps in the back while Amelia drives, legs thrown over one of the cardboard boxes.  The miles pass so quickly she’s not sure where they are or how long they’ve been going.  She just knows it’s never far enough.

Something is wrong, she realizes suddenly.  The cigarette falls from her lips and absent-mindedly she grinds it into the ground with the ball of her foot.  ”Claire,” she calls, looking out across the field.  She’d only meant to stop for a moment, just pulled over so they could stretch their legs and suddenly her daughter is gone.  ”Claire,” she says again, louder and she moves forward, two steps, panic gripping her tight, heart pounding a frantic beat against her rip cage.  She can’t quite keep track of how her body works anymore and strong emotion buffets her, making the thin threads of control she has unravel.  

A long, pale arm rises up out of the grass.  Two butterflies fly off the fingers of the hand attached.  ”I’m here, Mom,” Claire’s voice says, and it’s strong, clear.  Amelia feels something inside her stomach settle.  She sits up and even from a distance - and it’s not far, but it’s too far, she needs her child soft and solid under her hands - Amelia can see her smiling.  More butterflies, a little swarm from her shoulders and her hair, rise off of her and flitter away.  Claire stands up and brushes herself off.

“We need to go,” Amelia says.  She crosses her arms, hugs herself, tries to keep the anxiety out of her expression.

“Okay.”  Claire rolls her shoulders and stretches her arms out to her sides, like wings.

Amelia’s mouth is dry as she watches Claire jog back to the car.  She steps forward to meet her daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  Tight.  Claire grabs her hand and Amelia breathes deep, concentrating on the touch, trying to feel the heartbeat through her daughter’s fingers.


End file.
